


Alexithymia

by BrownEyedDevil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownEyedDevil/pseuds/BrownEyedDevil
Summary: Alexithymia - an inability to identify and express or describe one’s feelings.Hermione Granger had been as a standstill despite everything happening all at once, everything crashing all around her.Until, suddenly, she's moving.Except - she's moving backwards.Tom Riddle just wants to get on with his plan to take over the world. Is that so much of an ask?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 27
Kudos: 49





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I only have this written so far, and the only reason it is published is so that I can have a look at potential feedback. no pressure, but a review would be ever so helpful!

* * *

She wasn’t breathing.

At least, so far as Tom could tell.

Maybe she was, but by the state that she was in, he wouldn’t have guessed that she would have long.

A distant sounding voice in Toms head told him that his detachedness towards a dead or near dead body was not normal. Rather that it should be quite disturbing.

It wasn’t to him – this was normal and had been for a long while now. Not the bodies showing up – that was rather new – but the cold predisposition towards other suffering. That wasn’t particularly new.

[He didn’t mind this.]

The voice also told him that he needed to help the girl, should she still be breathing, if only to save face. Should anyone come across her later and realize it was he who was on patrol. 

[He also knew that this was borderline paranoia, _but that did not make it any less the truth_.

Besides, he couldn’t be asked to hide a body should it not necessary _~~not to mention he was quite possibly curious~~_.]

The whole debate over what he would do took about a total of five _measly_ seconds - or there abouts.

To him, though, it lasted an eternity.

An eternity that would decide the fate of the world.

Not that he, nor the dying girl at his feet _knew_ that.

And she was that, Tom had discovered – dying. Rather horribly actually. 

{It was a shame then, that the higher powers would not allow it, for she was praying for the merciless arms of Death and had been for a while now whether she realised it or not. No, They would rather her suffer. In fact, They would prefer it. (Their reasons were Their own – They would not divulge them to anyone, so we shall never know exactly _why_ that was.)

Though, the early suffering in her journey hardly bode well for what was to come – They didn’t bother to hide that.}

Tom has made his decision.

[He had known it would have to be made fast, lest it be made for him.]

So, unknowing of the consequences, unaware of the shifting of the very Fabric Of All Things, Tom swirled his wand in a graceful arc and, with a grim set face

[no one was around to see, and a comatose girl couldn’t observe]

he turned in the direction of the hospital wing.


	2. Presque-Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Presque-vu:  
> The sensation of not being able to recall something yet knowing you will be able to shortly.  
> {Translation: almost seen}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm here again. I honestly don't really have a plan or plot for this, but I do know that there are a few chapters i can write without knowing that. Input is very welcomed!  
> Please don't expect daily updates, I only have what is posted written and as I said, I have no clue where I'm going with this. I'm profusely sorry for any inconvenience.

* * *

She was aware

Not quite awake yet, but awake.

And alert enough.

[You don’t have to be awake to be alert and if you don’t believe her, go live through a borderline underground civil war as a teen.]

She had some recollection of her life, and it was all coming back to her.

Slowly.

She knew that her name was Hermione Jean Granger.

She knew that she had two loving parents.

[Not that they remembered her ~~she chocked back a small sob]~~

She knew she had two best friends she would die for.

As they would for her.

She knew she was a witch.

[The brightest one of her age if she remembered right, _but somehow that didn’t seem particularly important anymore_.]

And then she remembered.

She remembered the faces of the fallen.

_And the faces of those she fell._

And so, she knew there was a battle. One that she was fighting in until the nothingness arrived.

She also knew this fight was instrumental.

She knew that she was fighting for the light.

[Even though she had a predisposition towards ‘grey’ magic and morality _~~she had no choice~~_.]

But she didn’t know who had won.

If anyone had won.

_If anyone had lived like she had, ~~like she shouldn’t have.~~_

She was awake now.

Fully awake.

And she still didn’t _know_.

She didn’t know the extent of the significance that she was here.

[She didn’t even know where _here_ was.]

The last thing she really knew was flashes of tinted light. Light that would’ve been beautiful, had it not been so lethal _~~but weren’t most lethal things beautiful~~_.

How did she get here?

She knew she didn’t have long before _someone_ discovered her shift in conscious state.

[She wasn’t wrong, someone did find out later]

It was just a matter of which side they were on. Whether they called her muggle-born or ~~mudblood~~ by the slur carved into her arm.

* * *

It was neither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the chapters will get longer! They just felt like the stopped naturally at these points.


	3. Malneirophrenia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malneirophrenia  
> The foul, heavy and negative state that comes from waking up from a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!  
> This is much longer, thank god, and I have a general plan for it now, so hopefully it should start to come together.  
> Enjoy!  
> by the way, I'm having a lot of fun discovering new and obscure words for the chapter titles!

* * *

At first, she thought him an angel.

[ ~~Perhaps she _was_ dead~~.]

Then she knew he was the devil.

Had had shown her him memories of Satan’s face. She had memorised it, fascinated with its cruel beauty.

And she was staring right at it.

[Kicking herself for not realising it was his immediately.]

[ _ ~~What the fuck had happened~~_.]

This was _not_ good.

[Of course, she could be hallucinating. She had no idea what condition she in, or what medication she was pumped full of (for it had to be _some_ ) and she had certainly obessed over that face enough to remember it in vivid detail ~~not that she would _ever_ claim so~~.]

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

And suddenly, it was unfrozen; stumbling over herself

[whether to get as far away from him as possible or to attack was uncertain to both her and the person in question.]

reaching for her wand

[ _which wasn’t there ~~fuck~~_ ].

And his genial smile froze.

[He wasn’t quite sure what had caused her to react so, and whether or not said reaction was specified towards him _~~though he knew deep down it was~~_ ~~_he_~~ supposedly she could just be defensive. She likely had no idea where she was, and from the looks of it earlier, she should be traumatized beyond belief. That was what he told himself.]

He seemed to regain composure immediately, raising his hands in the universal symbol for ‘I mean no harm’. This didn’t particularly seem to calm her.

He was told almost nothing in the week since he brought her to the hospital wing. _Nothing._

This wasn’t particularly unusual, had it not been for the fact that no on was aware that the was even a person in Hogwarts, let alone one who arrived in such a condition.

[Hogwarts rumour mill should have been thoroughly overworked by now,

but there wasn’t even a whisper from anyone.]

Until Dippit had asked him to go _keep watch_ over her. Whoever she was.

* * *

[He had seemed reluctant to share anything other than his simply ~~order~~ request.

_He hated being ordered around_.]

{ _He was more serious than usual._

_Something was wrong._

_“Tom, I need you to go to the hospital wing.”_

_This in itself would’ve been an odd request if he hadn't had been receiving odd requests from people, from the universe recently. ‘stay quiet, save the girl, ask no questions – you shall receive no answers’_

_“Why ever should I be needed there sir?”_

_He already knew the answer._

_“The girl… I shan’t tell you much, its beyond what I'm at liberty to say.. but we cannot involve outside sources, and none of the staff have the kind of time to stay over her… since you already know of her it seemed logical.”_

_This didn’t come as a surprise. There was so much caution surrounding the esteemed headmaster that the most logical conclusion to get to would be that he was uncertain. He had the same sort of air that those who had lost trust in everything,_

_Well had had certainly trusted the wrong person with this task. Not that Tom would tell him that._

_“And what of my classes sir?”_

_He wasn’t all that worried about them; he was just curious as to Dippit’s answer. How far would he go to have as little persons involved as possible._

_“ You have been excused from them. Your assignments shall be sent to you.”_

_“And what should I say to the questions?”_

_“Don’t worry about them, the student body have been told that you shall be working on a… project for me.”_

_That was certainly interesting._

_“I would be honoured sir, when do I start?”_

_“ Now.”}_

* * *

That lead to now.

Them just staring at each other, hate and fear in brown eyes and carefully concealed behind cautious contempt, confusion, and calculation behind discernibly coloured eyes.

[Maybe they were deep green? Blue? Too dark to tell properly.]

He was quite uncertain what to do.

[A perfectly foreign feeling, he would be quick to tell you.]

He was certain that this was not meant to happen, else he would have been given instructions on who to call for if she awoke. She wasn’t expected to be conscious yet. He had, after all, just come from Dippit and he had given no instruction.

[He was regretting not asking for more detail now.]

He opened his lips to speak and a wash of blankness overcame her face.

It was too sudden and controlled to be anything but a mask – sure, the cracks were little, but Tom was a master at masks, and he could tell.

[She had realised that she was giving away far too much in a foreign situation and that, whatever her predicament may be, it would probably be best if she were not to wear her heart on her sleeve, rather to conceal all that was possible and throw up the strongest shield she could around her mind.]

He tried to talk again, certain that nothing could really get all that much stranger about her. At least, nothing that would startle him so.

{Gods was he wrong.}

“You're not meant to be awake yet.”

[He didn’t quite mean to say that _~~what is up right now, this is not normal?~~_ ]

“I wasn’t aware there was a specified time I was meant to wake up.”

[She was rather sardonic, he observed, and was not at all limited in her sarcasm.]

“Nor was I, but I'm fairly certain, that, given the fact I'm not aware of what I'm meant to do now you are awake, that it should have been at least a while before you should be conscious. Either way, I'm going to go with the ‘I’m meant to find the matron’ route. So, interesting as this conversation may be, I have a woman to find.”

And she was alone.

[Truly alone if the theory she had as to what had occurred was correct.]

Not for long though.

_He_ had returned.

And he had brought along some people.

[With carefully observation, she could tell the distaste between him and the redhead man…

_That was Dumbledore._

_~~Fuck.~~_

She was _right._

_This was worse than she could have thought._

_But maybe she could change things?_

No.

~~Awful things happened to wizards who messed with time.~~ ]

Apparently, she had been lost in her musings a while longer than she had thought while she was in her head, because the three adults were looking at her rather expectantly.

She had to know, and if she were to find a way back, she couldn’t begrudge any help, and she couldn’t very well get rid of who she now knew to be her nightmare, and one that was very real.

“What’s the date?”

[Gods that sounded ruder that she had meant it to be _~~way to go~~_.]

With a rather sceptical undertone in his voice, it was Dumbledore who recovered from her bluntness first.

“28th of September.”

[ ~~That was _ever so_ helpful~~.]

“And the year?”

That took them a little longer to recover from.

“1944”

This time it was _him_.

“Gods, what happened? What did I do to deserve this?”

[She had said it quietly enough, but the four others had heard her, and were wandering _exactly_ the same thing.]

She steeled herself.

Her voice was deadpanned when she had gathered herself enough to speak.

“My name is Hermione Granger, and I come from 54 years in the future. Do you think you can help me?” ~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for the next chapter, and let me know what you think if you have the time!


	4. Incipient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incipient:  
> In the beginning stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention I'm an unreliable updater right?  
> Either way, expect waits between chapter to vary, i pledge to nothing.  
> On a plus side, this chapter more than doubles the word count, so enjoy!

* * *

Chaos ensued

Mind you, it was controlled chaos.

But chaos, nonetheless.

[That was something not widely known, Hermione _loved_ chaos.]

The turbulence surrounding Albus Dumbledore had a quiet quality to it, despite his rather loud tendency to cause chaos himself. You could feel the greatness of the mind shifting through its motions, trying to figure out a statement so earth shatteringly changing, and yet not at all with consequences.

There was an appalled chaos to Armando Dippit. Or who Hermione assumed to be Headmaster Dippit.

[He was doing a rather marvellous job of imitating those goldfish you find on cartoons Hermione was trying desperately not to giggle she assumed he was attempting to stutter indignantly and was failing at even that.]

The was an obstinate refusal to the way the nurse held herself

[she wasn’t really holding herself together, but for the sake of her dignity, attempted to]

that was almost more amusing to Hermione than Dippit was. She was rather dramatic.

[Not unlike the overacting you would find on bad TV.]

Hermione's amusement was killed almost before it could come to be.

There was a fourth person in the room.

[ _One that she was hyper aware of ~~it would be her downfall if she weren’t~~_.]

His reaction was more similar to Dumbledore's than anything, except far more chilling.

Calculation.

Pure, unadulterated, calculation.

He hadn't even bothered to hide it.

It wasn’t even _cruel_.

[ _ ~~In fact, it was exactly how Hermione would have responded herself~~_.]

Yet it had her itching for her wand.

[Which she still hadn't found yet,

she really needed to do something about that and soon.]

She supposed to anyone else the expression could’ve seemed perfection innocent, innocuous.

But she knew the devils face.

~~Had it memorised _down to the last detail_~~.

So caught in her musings, she hadn't realised that the significantly long time it took for the four to recover.

[Rather, two to recover, the other two to simply come to conclusions about their paths of action.]

Seeing this, and that they were about to speak, Hermione decided to clear some things up first.

“Before you ask, no, I have no idea how I got here, yes, I know the consequences, and as such would rather like to get back sooner rather than later, and yes, I did come from a battle. You shall not hear more form me on it, I have no more information to give you.”

That changed things.

[It also didn’t.]

Tom was thoroughly confused.

This wasn’t something that happened all that often.

If ever.

She just got more and more interesting as she spoke.

He had known what he wanted.

Or rather, had thought he did.

Then, with the appearance of a peculiar girl [woman] it all shifted.

[He would deny if happening at such an early stage, citing that if he had known what would happen, he would’ve left her there to die ~~not that he had had much choice anyway~~.]

Now, he knew he wanted information. He just wasn’t sure how much.

He would figure it out later.

There was an obvious power surrounding the girl, if the way the tips of her still singed hair sparked was any indication.

[Perhaps that was why it appeared to frizz up]

Either way, for her to not become a nuisance but an aid, he would need her as his.

As his lackey.

Perhaps that was cold.

She didn’t seem to be _quite_ the same level as his actual lackeys.

Rather, closer to him.

[He was loathe to admit it, but she seemed intelligent.]

He should wait for a professor to respond.

But Dippit was just sputtering again, and the old fool would simply offer a muggle sweet, pat you on the head then appear with an easy ‘fix-all’ at the most inappropriate of times.

So, it really was up to him to help her.

At least immediately.

And if he wanted to leave anytime soon.

[Which he did – he had rather a lot to think over.]

“Is there anything you _can_ tell us Miss Granger?”

His voice, though seemingly polite, held a steel undertone, one which demanded obedience.

Had she been typical, she would’ve happily obliged.

However, she was Hermione Granger. Soon to be war hero, Brightest witch of her age, and brains behind the golden trio.

Not that Tom knew any of that.

[If he did, he would have been far more interested in her rather than her knowledge, but he didn’t.]

So, she replied with equally well-hidden, matching force.

“Seeing as I don’t really seem to be an expert, considering I'm _asking for help_ from people who _haven’t even told me their names_ , and I have _truly_ never been in such a situation, no I do not have anything else I could tell you at this time.”

She really did have quite the backbone.

The matron turned sympathetic.

“Oh, you poor dear! You must be so scared! I couldn’t imagine. Surely, sirs, we could find a way to help. She shan’t have any other place to go else, goodness knows what the world would make of a time traveller!”

Tom imagines her sudden sympathy had quite a lot to do with the fact that this Hermione seemed to be a woman far out of her depth.

Tom wasn’t going to contradict her.

However trite her argument, the matron was slowly winning Dippit into considering helping the girl.

“Perhaps it should be a good idea to have Miss Granger checked over, then to convene for tea, her good health permitting, and discuss what can or shall be done for this situation.”

Tom had never thought he would ever be grateful for Dumbledore.

He didn’t want to start being so now. Not really.

“Yes… yes, that seems to be the most obvious course of action, and the best for now. Madam, if you wouldn’t mind… Miss Granger, please come find us when you're ready.”

Dippit had finally recovered.

Tom wasn’t looking forward to the wait period, and the longer it took for this to occur, the more likely he was to be kicked out of the meeting.

He was, of course able to suggest why he should be there, he simply did not want to deal with Dumbledore.

He didn’t really believe he would have an easy time with this one.

“Sir, I wonder… perhaps Miss Granger would feel more comfortable with someone her own age around?”

He could see Dumbledore’s eyes narrow.

And the flicker of panic that flew across her face, before the shields

[he assumed they were occlumency shields, you didn’t see that effect on many people, and fewer yet who weren’t well trained in the mind arts]

slammed back up.

“Yes, I suppose it may help, Tom, if you wouldn’t mind escorting Miss Granger to the nearest staff room. Do try your best to make her comfortable.”

He could practically feel the girl vibrating with suppressed rage.

Apparently, she didn’t like being spoken for and she really didn’t like people pretending she wasn’t in the room.

[ _Sorry darling, you're in the 40’s, I don’t know how things were half a century from now, but here? You’ll be ignored at every turn_.]

He almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Then again, she was about to open her mouth to protest, so maybe not so sorry after all.

She did think better of it, though she still did speak.

“If its perfectly alright with _you_ , sir, I would rather like to know _the names_ of the people helping me _before I_ agree to anything.”

My, she did not hold back with the sarcasm.

{Not that the idiot headmaster noticed.]

“Of course! Terribly rude of us… well, you did give us quite the shock, you could hardly blame us. My name is Armando Dippit, and I am the headmaster of this fine establishment. The solemn looking fellow over there goes by Albus Dumbledore, he’s the transfiguration teacher, and the charming young man who is escorting you is our head boy, Tom Riddle.”

She didn’t seem at all shocked by the information.

Which was a little odd, considering that she shouldn’t really know she was in a school, you would’ve thought that she would assume she was in a hospital or some such place.

Just a small blip on Tom’s radar.

[He had larger things to worry about.]

Tom did find it rather aggravating that he could not introduce himself, first impressions were often very important.

[Perhaps he had already blew it – he wasn’t exactly polite earlier.]

And then they left, and the mediwitch was back to checking over the girl.

And he was back to scrutinising her.

There wasn’t much to her, that much seemed obvious.

[So she hadn't just been in a battle, there were strenuous circumstances, no one who goes through that level of duelling and survives wouldn’t know at least a little about what they’re doing, and no one who knew at least a little about what they were doing would leave themselves so weak and vulnerable.]

She was quite obviously a fighter – if he had to guess a soldier.

He recognised the look in her eyes, it was similar to that seen on the many faces of nameless soldiers who had walked the streets of London when they were sent back from their war.

Mind you, she had a fire in her eyes that was missing in theirs – she was passionate about the cause, knew what she was getting into, and, even if she didn’t have a choice ( _Her bring a child soldier seemed all the more likely by the second – he could she her eyes scanning the room, visibly assessing for any threat – and child soldiers often never had a choice, either by circumstance_ ) she saw herself as fighting for a cause.

He thought she was a reckless idiot for it.

_Either a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff._

[Though he could see the glimmer of intelligence, and the sheen of determination ( ~~was it really that different from ambition~~?) and cunning behind her eyes, _it gave him reason to pause_.]

She was so very clearly uncomfortable with contact, even if it was simply a meek mediwitch assessing her health.

_That_ was interesting.

[It also wasn’t _~~he wasn’t sure why he cared~~_.]

It was over both to soon and too slow.

Tom was rather eager to get to discussing what would happen next.

But her injuries were extensive.

And who knew what long distance time travel did to a person.

Somehow, he got the feeling that the [consideringly inexperienced] school nurse was, indeed missing something.

No matter, if she turned out useful, he’d fix it.

If not, well, he didn’t have to kill her then.

[To prevent a resource finding one of his potential rivals, of course _though what rivals and for what were rather unclear at the minute_.]

It was all too soon for Tom

[he did have to take _time_ to _think_ , he wasn’t totally efficient, ~~no one was~~ ]

before they were heading down the corridor outside the hospital wing towards the nearest staff room.

_It didn’t escape his notice that she knew exactly where she was going._

It really didn’t take them long to walk the corridor, despite the silent fuss the girl (who he was now realising was rather petite, standing beside him0 kicked up when he tried to offer his assistance.

[ _Honestly, she was in bad enough shape to have been bedridden_ and unconscious _for a week, was walking for the first time since then having_ only just _woken up and was_ refusing help _? She seemed more idiotic than he had originally thought – ~~though that might just be the refusal talking~~._]

They did manage to arrive without incident, to open the door and find the two professors talking solemnly in low voices that stopped as soon as they notice their ‘guests’ had found their way over.

Whatever they were talking about they seemed decided on things.

That would make twisting the situation in his favour rather more difficult.

“Miss Granger, we believe we have a solution, providing a few circumstances.”

That was Dumbledore, the bastard could never say something important straight.

“Like what?”

There wasn’t any sarcasm, but there was an undertone of defensiveness.

“Did you ever finish your schooling?”

Ah, Dippit. Straight to the point.

“I’m sorry to say that I didn’t. I was technically two months into my last year when I left, though I was unable to attend, I’m sure you can understand that it was strenuous circumstance.” She sounded genuinely put out that she had never got to finish her schooling. _Interesting_.

“And, I believe, it is safe to assume you’d rather the minestry wouldn’t get a hold of you, I dare say they wouldn’t let you leave and they would hardly be pleasant.”

Dippit never had really sugar-coated things. He simply hadn't had reason to speak of such things to the children who inhabited the institution he ran, so they were more or less unaffected by things pertaining to him.

Her face had hardened a little more at the mention of the ministry, and her hand went for her recently returned wand, only for a semi second, before realising that would probably be a bad idea.

Tom had picked up on it.

So had Dumbledore, judging by the way his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“I’d rather think not. All I really want to do is get back to my time. There are people who need me there, and quite frankly, id rather not be stuck with people I don’t know, even if this time is relatively peaceful, it is no longer in my nature to trust.”

She wasn’t hiding anything when she had said that.

Unsurprisingly, she had made Dippit rather more uncomfortable.

Surprising, Dumbledore didn’t even bat an eye.

Tom was expecting it, he just hadn't realised she would be so forward about it.

Dippit recovered quicker this time. It seemed everything about the out-of-place girl would shock or offend him in some way.

He was going to have to accumulate to her soon.

“Indeed, rather, we believe, if you’d so chose, that it would be best if you were to complete your education here – under a different name of course, we couldn’t have anyone recognising you in the future, and… well, it isn’t the safest time to be running around with a muggle name, and I’d rather think, given circumstances, you’d wish for as much peace as possible.”

Her eyes had narrowed all through his stumbled over suggestion, until they were almost closed.

“I’ve been running around in a time where my name would’ve been my death, and the fame that came with being a person in the resistance was a torcher sentence. I will not change it for some ‘peace and quiet.’ I assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, should anymore decide they have an issue with my heritage. So, no, my name stays as it is.”

Dippit was offended again.

He seemed to take it better this time though, and decided against angering the small witch again, sparks were coming off of her curls with ferocity.

Tom wasn’t sure if she was an idiot or just fed up.

All things considering, she was likely just fed up.

Dumbledore chuckled and her eyes shot towards him, softening almost invisibly, before hardening right back up again.

Recognition.

Then mistrust.

But there was obviously a trust there _before_.

“I do rather believe that you need an introduction to the school. Do not worry about your backstory, all shall become clear soon, I just ask that you play along as we introduce you to the school. Dinner shall be starting shortly, and we don’t have the time to delay.”

Turning to Tom, he still had the manic twinkling in his eyes that had not been lost since Tom had found him in Dippit’s office earlier.

“I trust that you understand the importance of keeping what you have learned a secret.”

With that, he turned on his heel, walking swiftly towards the Great Hall, expecting a livid witch, a seemingly placid, but really rather angry wizard, and a still rather befuddled Headmaster to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Loved it, hated it, found a mistake, got something to add, whatever!


	5. Lacuna(e)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacuna(e)  
> A gap, as in omission or oversight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That one took a lot of energy.   
> Though that might be more to do with mountains of work teachers decide to give GCSE students.  
> Side note, do NOT attempt to do triple science and art - it will murder your sleep.  
> Either way, my sleep pattern is back to shite, and this is still unbeta'd and probably riddled with error.  
> Happy Reading!

* * *

The Great Hall was packed. Full of life.

What reason did it have not to be?

That didn’t make it any easier for Hermione to walk into what had been, to her only mere hours ago, a battleground when she had to fight tooth and nail for her life.

_She could feel the elevated pulse._

[The impulse to grab her wand.]

What she hadn't counted on was the noise.

A cacophony that made it difficult to pick up on anything in particular, but all to easy to get swallowed by sound.

~~Drowned by it.~~

It was a different sound than hat of a battle, but it still had Hermione on edge.

_She didn’t know what everyone in the room was doing, or their intention._

They could be _anyone_.

And she wouldn’t know it until it was too late.

_They would also simply be students_.

[One of these students grew up to cause the battle she had sprung from however, and many had joined him, so this thought wasn’t particularly reassuring,]

Dumbledore was already halfway to the podium, with Dippit on his heels before they had noticed she had stopped.

Riddle was a step behind her.

She didn’t find any of these things reassuring.

Neither did she find the sudden hush that befell the grand place as they realised that she was there.

In fact, it seemed almost worse than the noise.

[ ~~Noise may be the sound of battle, but it was still the sound of life.~~

~~Silence followed _death_~~.]

She stood there with unfocussed eyes for at least two minutes.

Two minutes which thoroughly irritated Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore.

[Not that either of them would admit to feeling the same way as the other.]

Two minutes which completely softened Armando Dippit’s disposition towards Hermione Granger.

Two minutes which left the wider population of the school in a state of burning curiosity and confusion, one which wouldn’t be sated easily.

[After all, who just stops and _stares_ like that? Like they are witnessing the death of all the inhabitants surrounding them, even when they are perfectly healthy.]

Two minutes in which Hermione Granger relived hell, and no one really saw.

It took the person who was responsible for it all touching her elbow gently to snap her out of it.

No one missed the haunted look in her eyes before a wall of indifference slammed down upon her face.

It took them all

[all but one]

a while to recover.

Enough time for her to regain her wit and composure completely, and by the time that they were out of their shock, they questioned whether or not it was their imagination which provided those images, and none would dare ask their neighbour, for fear of seeming mad and breaking the still suffocating silence of the room.

Dumbledore had no such concerns.

So, he stepped up to the podium.

[Hermione idly wondered why it wasn’t the headmaster who was speaking, but the students seemed unaffected by this. She wasn’t all that bothered, just trying to keep herself occupied. She did not want to properly freak out in the middle of the hall.]

Dippit followed, Hermione and Tom a beat behind them.

They all seemed to desire to act as though the past three minutes hadn't happened

[In fact, Hermione was beginning to suspect that the four of them had a desire to forget the last week and have things go back to ‘normal’ even if that normal would’ve been deadly for one.]

Dumbledore apparently saw no reason to delay anything, and with madly twinkling eyes addressed the still silent students.

“I’m sure you’ve all been observant enough to notice an unfamiliar face among us tonight. There is a perfectly good reason for this, but I believe we must sort them first.”

Without any preamble, he drew the sorting hat out of seemingly thin air.

[He had always had a habit towards the superfluous, one that had never faded over time. It was a rather brilliant distraction from the scheming that went behind Hermione’s Headmaster of Hogwarts.]

The students silence had lifted by this point, all of the wonder with the possibility of a transfer student. It was practically unheard of, and all were thinking the same thing: ‘what makes this one so special?’

“If Miss Hermione Dumbledore would be so kind as to step up to be sorted.”

It was phrased like a question, but it was stated how it was: an order.

[One she had no choice but to obey.]

The now quietly fuming witch, walked at a sedate pace towards the subject of her ire, her eyes the only thing betraying her, if it weren’t for the violent sparks flowing through her hair.

[Dumbledore had panned it this way, a way where she could not protest. ~~The scheming bastard~~. _Now she had two all too powerful wizards to watch out for_.]

Taking the slow and short walk to bring the wash of calm back over herself, Hermione began to assess the situation.

Being a Dumbledore would carry weight. It would give her influence that a muggleborn would never hope to achieve.

It also left her dependent on the old man.

[She was not comfortable being under his thumb ~~again~~ , she had the evidence to back her up this time as well.

She had never trusted him in her own time either, there were too many inconsistencies, but she had no choice but to be a part of the ‘light’ ~~side rather restricting her natural magic tendencies in order to stay alive and out of Azkaban~~ per haps now she could change that – she just had to show that she wasn’t like her… she had no idea what relation she was meant to be towards the man smiling kindly ~~patronizingly~~ at her.]

No matter.

She could prove them wrong.

After all, she still had the little beaded bag with her, it had been returned with her wand.

[That was another issue – her wand wasn’t her own. She had lost it a while back now, and she had no clue whose she had been using. She supposed it was rather impressive to be coming out of a battle with her seniors alive when she was using a wand that did not wish to work for her. Perhaps if she had had her own, they wouldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t be here.

Nevertheless, it was an issue, one that now she had the time to sit and think about she may come up with a solution for.]

The bag still carried all that she and the boys had needed (and a lot more than Hermione had eve let them know she possessed, for fear that they would dessert her completely – an entirely founded fear too).

She could achieve what she needed to.

After that, well, it didn’t really matter anymore, did it?

So, with her head held high, the image of poise and grace, she swept herself up to the stool, still in the clothes she had fought in, the bloodstained one covered in tears and rips, no one having had the thought that she may need to change.

No matter, none but the devil had noticed.

And a hat was placed on her head, falling down over her eyes, causing her to give in to deep panic for a fleeting second, being _there_ and practically blind with no allies.

Then it didn’t matter anymore.

She was transported back to her first year, but still entirely aware of the shift her very soul had undergone in the time between these two events.

A significant shift that was necessary, but was still a shift, and no one could tell you if it were for the worse or not, as there are reasons to everything that we may or may not see, have pointed out for, nor remember are there, but are there nonetheless, ones that sometimes, if fact, quite often, those at the heart of things aren’t aware of.

_~What do we have here? ~_

Hermione thought that the voice was actually rather sleezy.

_~ Why thank you, my dear. Not the most common response I’ve had, I'm sure you realise. Although, I suppose you are rather distracted at present. ~_

He ~~_if he indeed had a gender_~~ chuckled.

_~If you would kindly refrain from imagining a rather vivid evisceration of Professor Dumbledore? I can understand your anger perfectly, however, its rather preventing me getting a proper read of your character. ~_

Hermione flushed.

[Tom wondered what on earth would get her to turn such a pretty colour of dusk.

_~~And what he would do to see it again~~_.]

_~Ah, that seems to have done it, now, I wonder. A Gryffindor, were you? I wouldn’t have guessed, no don’t get offended, you’ve changed an awful lot you know, and you weren’t meant from red and gold in the first place, no, I see you can recall me telling you as much. Hmmm, so not a lion._ _~_

Hermione was rather offended by this, and bristled a little, but none of what the hat had said was untrue, so she decided there wasn’t much point staying mad at it, or rather herself.

There was a rather long moment of silent contemplation from the hat, though Hermione wasn’t left in silence, the rising whispers from the living occupants told her that she was under for far longer than a usual person.

_~Still no Hufflepuff either, though you do appear loyal, fiercely slow, I do believe your morals would rather shock them. No, not suited for yellow and black either. ~_

Hermione had known this. She had spoken to several Hufflepuffs even before all the fighting had changed her, in the library and class.

She had scared them all off. Eventually they simply knew to avoid her, lest they face sever startlement.

_~Rowena would’ve liked you; I would think. So intelligent, rivalling possibly her own. Yes, she would’ve loved to have mentor you. But blue and bronze still doesn’t quite fit, does it? A little too tame now, too inactive. ~_

[ _No._

That could only mean the hat was thinking one thing.

~~Slytherin.~~

{The hat chose to stay quite as she thought herself through the eventual decision – she would need to come to her own conclusion, lest she ostracise herself before ever really trying. This girl was important, though what for, the poor hat wasn’t quite aware of, it just had the vague notion of vitalness, as though this minor decision would change the fate of things far beyond even the sorting hats scope of understanding.}

She couldn’t be a Slytherin.

She just couldn’t.

~~Never mind the fact she had never quite fit in around the other houses and had felt far more at home around the few snakes who had deigned to converse with her.~~

She may have a vengeance streak a mile wide, and a certain ruthlessness only developed further by a war she was far too young to be touched by, to a point where her friends, should they have been alive to see it, would not have recognised her.

But that didn’t make her a Slytherin!

~~Did it?~~

She may have a proclivity towards the greyer magics. Ok, the darker magics.

But that didn’t necessarily make her a Slytherin – the snakes weren’t all about just dark magic. Some of them were good people, just like how some Gryffindors were bad.

[Take Pettigrew for example.]

She hid it though.

That would make her a Slytherin. It took an awful lot of cunning to hide that from the ‘supreme good’ that was Harry Potter and elder Albus Dumbledore. Even more to utilise it in any way to ensure that she survived without being thrown in Azkaban.

[Even if ‘dark’ magic was necessarily harmful. Had the potential to be, definitely, but so did a simple tripping jinx, it could be lethal if used correctly, same for many household spells and even lifesaving ones.]

But it was necessary. Nothing she chose to do, something to was forced to.

The dark side wished nothing to do with her, the light side were incapable of seeing past boundaries that should really be based on intention rather than actions.

But still.

One single (admittedly rather long term) act should not be enough to change he very fundamentals of her person. Especially if she had known before sitting under the hat the first time what would be expected of her.

~ _My dear, the only reason I can imagine ever adhering to your previous wishes would have been the potential dangers you would’ve met there with a muggle name. ~_

This didn’t amuse Hermione.

_~No more thoughts of burning a priceless relic and phenomenon for today young lady. ~_

Her thoughts turned a little sheepish.

~What I said was by no means an insult to your heritage, merely an observation you yourself had made before you ever set foot within this castle. However, if find this point rather moot at present. You are not attending Hogwarts under a muggle name, as Professor Dumbledore… ah… so kindly assured. ~

She growled a little at this, a reminder of a recent wrong bestowed upon her person.

_~And child? I daresay you shall find far more loyalty and acceptance among those of silver and green, at least eventually. But you already knew this didn’t you? All I can say is, the best of luck Miss_ Dumbledore, _I daresay you shall need it. Do try not to spend all your time trying to get back to a place that is already gone, you’ll miss the present and hen where will the rest of us be? ~_

Hermione, more than a little preoccupied only really gleaned a little of what the hat had said, entirely missing its meaning.

She wouldn’t not remember the sorting hats parting words for a few months yet.

She had far too much going on, too much to adapt to.

* * *

~SLYTHERIN! ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, hated, wanted something added, changed, whatever, and have the time and energy to let me know, them please feel free to do so. Else, just know that your continued reading to this chapter is enough to make my day.


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